Entitled
by Shena1
Summary: I was challenged to write a fic which incorporates all of the titles from all of the episodes – in order. So this is just pure, semi-plotless Caskett fluff.
1. Season 1

**I was challenged by Nicky to write a fic which incorporates all of the titles from all of the episodes – ****_in order._**

**(Titles verbatim preferred, but slight adjustments or variations allowed if needed)**

**So there is really no plot to this – just pure fluff. Started with the 10 episodes of Season 1… **

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

** Season 1**

"Hey."

She didn't tear her eyes away from her book as he approached the couch. "Hey."

"Taking a walk down memory lane?" he grinned, sitting down beside her feet that were curled up in front of her.

"What do you mean?" she mumbled, eyes locked on the ink on the page.

"_Flowers For Your Grave?" _Castle grinned, pushing the cover of the novel with his index finger to get a better look at its familiar cover.

"I felt like reading something quick..." she replied flatly, before adding, "...and brainless."

"Ou-ch." He fained pain as she shot him a sly grin, quickly returning her focus to the novel.

She enjoyed only a brief moment of peace before he broke the silence again. Canting his head slightly, he asked, "When was the last time you read that book?"

"Why?"

"Just curious," he remarked innocently.

"Ummm…" she mumbled, setting her closed book down on her lap, fingers between the pages she was reading, as she took a moment to ponder the inquiry. "Just before I caught the Sara Manning murder case, I think."

Castle furrowed his brow, eyes dancing back and forth as he wracked his brain. "Which one was Sara Manning, again?"

"Girl who got stuffed in the dryer."

"Oh yeah..." he nodded thoughtfully. "Nanny McDead."

Kate huffed, unimpressed with the use of the nickname. "Don't call her that, Castle."

"Sorry," he apologized sincerely, scrunching his nose as he rose from the couch.

"S'okay," she winked forgivingly as he traipsed over to the kitchen table to get the newspaper. "Just don't let it happen again."

"Only if you start making the coffee everyday," he countered, returning to the couch, paper tucked under one arm, two steaming mugs of caffeinated goodness in his hands.

Her eyes narrowed, meeting his glare as she took a mug from him, weighing the deal. A heavy sigh eked from her lungs as she lifted the hot mug to her lips. "You win."

Castle wiggled his eyebrows, savouring his victory, as he sat down on the couch, settling himself into the corner. "It's a bit chilly in here," he remarked as he made himself comfortable, setting his coffee down on the table behind the sofa. "You want a blanket or something?"

"No thanks…" she murmured, engulfed in the story.

"Okay…" he shrugged as he turned his attention to the front page news.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while after that, Castle reading _The Ledger_ as Beckett lost herself in his novel.

"Huh…" he snickered into the news print, "Looks like a couple hedge fund managers gave some bad tips to some of their homeboys... ended up losing everything."

"Perils of playing the market, I guess," she muttered, partially attentive.

"Apparently a bunch of their major clients are suing," he continued.

"Well…" she shrugged, "Hell hath no fury like a corporation that loses billions."

"Not scorned women?"

"Wanna put it to the test?" she challenged, a taunting smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth.

"Nope," he retorted almost immediately, wide eyed. "I'm good."

_'And now we're even,_' she mused to herself as she buried her victorious smile within the pages of her book.

After an extended, comfortable silence, Beckett shivered, a sudden chill going through her veins, from the tips of her fingers down to her toes.

"You sure you don't want a blanket?" her fiancé teased, looking over at her, a goofy grin adorning his face.

There was a pregnant pause before Beckett relented. "Would it make you feel better if I did?"

"Maybe?..." he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay… but not the crappy blanket you hate."

Castle got up from the couch, picking up a fleece blanket from the back of his armchair. "You insult me…" he scoffed, draping the blanket over her legs and body. "I always buy retail." Tucking the blanket under her legs, he beamed an adoring smile at her before adding, "Nothing but the best for the people I love."

She reciprocated the warm smile as he lifted the cooling coffee mug from her grip, placing it on the table behind the couch before squeezing in behind her, cocooning her body against his strong chest. She closed her eyes, snuggling in against his warm torso.

"_Mmmmmm_…" she hummed as he pressed his smooth lips to the back of her head, his strong fingers gently raking through the ends of her silky hair. "I love this."

"Hmmm?" he smiled into her hair, squeezing his arms tightly around her.

"This…" she muttered, voice heavy and relaxed. "It feels right."

He said nothing, his heart palpitations slowing to match her leisurely breathing, as she added with a heated whisper, "Feels like home."

His heart stopped momentarily as he absorbed her words. Home. Liquid fire filled his veins at the thought. Home. To her, he is home. Any ghosts that may have been haunting her, that she'd been chasing for so long… anything that prevented her from finding happiness…

For so long, she was like a little girl... lost… adrift.

But she'd fought the war... overcome so much. A death in the family, a shattered heart, a fear of living.

And she'd finally found peace.

With him.

* * *

**It's like a game and a fiction all in one! Did you spot all the titles?**

**Hope you enjoyed the fluffiness.**

**Judge away!**


	2. Season 2

_**Recap: The challenge was to write a fic infusing all of the episode titles within the story – in order.**_

**. **

**This one materialized as a series of unrelated ficlets…**

**It's still semi-plotless fluff, though. ;)**

**And a few of the titles had to be "adjusted" or approached creatively to fit. Forgive me. :)**

* * *

**Season 2**

**_"Dead Tired"_**

A blue mug full of steaming coffee appeared in front of her eyes as she stared down at the financial records spread out across the surface of her desk. The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon aroused her senses. Her eyes twinkled as she raised her head, beaming at the man who delivered her the liquid goodness.

"Thanks," she muttered with a warm smile, bringing the mug to her lips with both hands wrapped firmly around the heated ceramic.

Castle reciprocated the smile, sitting down in his chair beside her desk. "Buried deep in death this late at night?... Figured you could use the caffeine."

She nodded with a grin as she took another elongated sip of her coffee. Putting the mug of espresso - a double - down on her desk, she carded her fingers through her hair as she turned her attention to Castle who was examining the murder board.

"Anything new?" he inquired, eyeing the picture of the young man who'd lost his life.

"Not much," she muttered, wiping her knuckle across a weighted eyelid. "The neighbours didn't see anything, and his boss' alibi was airtight."

"Do you think the murder had anything to do with what he was inventing?"

"The girlfriend mentioned that different companies had been calling lately, harassing him, trying to buy his designs…" she mused, staring at the whiteboard with glazed eyes, her voice trailing off, "...so it's possible."

The writer looked over at his fiancée to see her leaning back in her hair as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, the mellow light from her desk lamp basking her pale face in a soft glow. She was exhausted.

"Beckett…"

She looked up at him with heavy eyes. "_Hmmm_?..."

"You're tired." It wasn't a question.

She looked at him blankly without responding, cupping the back of her head, fingers intertwined.

"C'mon…" he got up from his chair, picking up her coat.

"I'm fine, Cas-"

"Kate." He cut her off, his voice gentle and warm. "When are you going to learn that you can't fool me? Once you get some rest, you'll be able to kick-ass properly again."

"I can still kick your ass, buddy…" she muttered, suppressing a yawn.

"And I don't doubt that… but not when you can hardly think straight," he observed with nothing but love woven into the tone of his voice.

Her body slumped slightly as she just looked at him, but she eventually nodded in compliance. Rising from her chair, she slid her arm into the sleeve of her coat as he held it open for her.

He followed her to the elevator, his wide hand resting lightly against the small of her back as her hooded eyes were fighting to stay open. She can be so strong, so fierce, so tenacious, so tough… but when the bough breaks, she falls hard. But he is always going to be there to catch her.

Just as she will always be there to catch him.

Because that's what partners do.

.

* * *

**_"Bite Me"_**

Sitting on the barstool beside the island, the tantalizing aroma of liquid heaven permeating the air, Castle flipped to the next page of _The Ledger_ as Beckett crossed through the bedroom door and made her way to the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot. He didn't even look up, however, as he was engrossed in the tabloid-esque quality of the article he was reading.

"God, I love full moons in New York!" he grinned as he skimmed through the contents of the city section. "Looks like the crazies were out in droves this weekend."

"I think you mean vampires," she muttered through her teeth as she poured some of the dark, steaming liquid into her mug.

His head shot up quickly, confused by her remark. "What're you talking about?"

Her glare suddenly intensified, the look in her eyes deadly. She released a deep huff through her nose before pounding her mug heavily on to the counter-top.

Swivelling her head, her sharp gaze shot piercing daggers straight at his heart… his neck… his mouth. Without a word, she took two powerful steps towards him. Stopping beside the island, standing directly across from him - separated only by the narrow counter - she looped a finger around the edge of the collar of her turtleneck sweater… and…

"What the heck do you call this, Castle?" she huffed, tugging the collar out slightly to reveal a painful-looking red mark adorning the side of her neck – two curved lines that didn't quite connect together, shaped like an incomplete oval.

He grimaced slightly before looking up to meet her glare, his face scrunching as he offered an awkward, overly-toothy, pained grin. She was going to kill him. "A love nibble?" he squeaked.

"Nibble?!" Beckett threw back at him, crossing her arms across her chest. "Castle… you practically chewed a gorge in my neck!"

"I didn't hear you complaining last night," he retorted with a suggestive and playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

Beckett narrowed her eyes and released a heavy sigh as she turned to reclaim her abandoned coffee that was sitting next to the sink.

She was unimpressed. And he needed to fix this.

"Hey… Kate…" His voice was soft and earnest as he rose from his seat, rounding the counter, floating towards her.

"Choose your words wisely, buddy," she sneered, caressing her mug between her palms. "They could be your last… and I'll be sure to make them famous."

He sidled up behind her, his solid chest pressing firmly against her smooth back, his strong hands coming to rest gently on her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, voice genuine and sincere. "I got carried away…"

A sly grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stay mad at him. Especially not for something he did last night. That would be as unproductive and moronic as killing the messenger.

She felt herself melt into him, electricity jolting through her body in waves as he sucked gently on the helix of her ear, one of his broad hands sliding down the side of her arm, snaking its way around her stomach, the pad of his thumb skimming the underside of breast. Her arm flopped out, boneless, depositing the coffee mug back on the counter in order to prevent herself from carelessly dropping it on the floor.

"What time do you have to go into work today?" he mumbled as he placed an open-mouth kiss on the edge of her jaw, her head canting to the side, extending her neck in response.

"_Mmmmm_…" she hummed as he slowly pulled her collar away from her throat, exposing the raw mark. Smoothing his index and middle fingers along her supple skin, he gently caressed the angry imprint. She felt his silky lips worship the scar as she found enough of her voice to mumble, "Not till this afternoon…"

"Then I think maybe we should take care of this…" he breathed, running his tongue along her skin, soothing the bite mark, "…right now."

Twining her fingers through the ones resting against her fluttering abdomen, she stepped out of his embrace and turned to look at him, eyes deep and dark, lustful and forgiving.

"Forgive me?" he whispered as she walked backwards, hazel eyes locked on cerulean blue, fingers linked as she led him towards the bedroom.

"Always," she smiled.

Soon after, neither one of them spoke a word, completely lost in each other. Castle's lips worked their magic - the soothing balm by which the scar would be healed. The same way he'd healed all of her scars.

As he spooned up behind her during their afterglow, naked and sweaty and sated, he was certain he heard her mumble, _"Love me…"_

Dead meat, he was not.

He smiled contently as he gently kissed the top of her head, his fingers trailing along the side of her lithe form.

Perfection.

She was perfection. A treasure. One man's treasure. His treasure. She was his… just as much as he was hers.

And now he also had a love nibble on the side of _his_ neck to prove it.

.

* * *

**_"Literary Inspiration"_**

A gentle, loving smirk crossed his face as he paused before entering the bedroom - admiring the sight of his gorgeous fiancée, curled up beneath the plush comforter, book in hand.

Incredible.

Even after almost two years together, he still got butterflies in his stomach when he saw her like that - relaxing in an oversized t-shirt, wrapped up in his bed. Their bed. She chose him… and some days he still couldn't believe it wasn't just a strange and wonderful dream.

"You're staring," she muttered, a wry smile teasing the edge of her lips, eyes not leaving the page.

"You're beautiful," he countered, voice sincere and soft.

"You're biased," she retorted with a slight chuckle.

"...and ruggedly handsome." He wiggled his eyebrows as she shot him a sardonic but amused look.

He traipsed past the foot of the bed, heading into the ensuite bathroom to begin his evening routine, but he couldn't help but smile at the thought of the woman in the bed. Every night. Every night, he gets to fall asleep and wake up next to Kate Beckett.

Life was perfect.

Perfect, that is, until she asked him a loaded question while he was in the midst of brushing his teeth.

"Castle…" Her voice was flat, serious. "Can I ask you something that's been on my mind for a long time?"

He gulped slightly, almost choking on a mouthful of toothpaste. That did not sound good. He quickly rinsed his mouth and returned to the bedroom, wiping his lips with a towel.

"Um... okay?"

"Where's the fifth bullet?"

That was not _at all _what he was expecting… though truth be told, he really had no clue what he was expecting in the first place. "Huh?"

"Every time I read this book, I'm perturbed by the fact that the victim was shot four times, but there were five bullets missing from the murder weapon, and it's never explained where the other bullet went," she huffed into the pages.

Confused, he padded over to the bed and bent over slightly to get a look at the spine of the novel since she'd removed the book jacket. _A Rose For Everafter_. Ah… that explained it.

"Yeah, about that…" he sighed, rounding the bed to his side. "I'd like to be able to blame my editors, but that was really my fault. My early writing was a bit sloppier… I wasn't quite as attentive to details as I am now. Not quite as mature."

"You're mature? When did that happen?" she scoffed playfully.

"Ouch…" She really knew how to sucker punch the writer... but he loved it. His mind flashed back to when they first met - her giving him the third degree. Man, he had been so turned on. It was amazing to think how far they'd come. She wouldn't even admit she liked his books back then… and now she had a habit of openly discussing plot points or giving him suggestions for possible scenes. (The ones that were inspired by their bedroom activities were his personal favourites.)

"You did squeeze a lot into this plot, though, Castle," she murmured, jolting him from his pleasant reverie. "Suicide, bondage, murder, and a sweeping love story."

He twisted his body towards hers, wrapping his nimble fingers around the book and removing it gently from her grasp as he stared at her, his hooded eyes dark and lustful.

"And which of those stories do you think I told the best?" he whispered on a heavy breath into her ear as he reached across her body, depositing the novel on her bedside table.

"_Hmmmm_…" she mused as his wet tongue tickled the shell of her ear. "The bondage part _was_ pretty hot…"

"Turned on by domination, huh?" His heated fingers teased the soft skin of her waist as they crawled under her t-shirt, his mouth playing a gentle symphony along her perfectly chiselled jawline. "Wanna play with your cuffs, detective?" he breathed into her skin as his warm palm continued to travel up her body, its movements both tantalizing and sensual.

"You did once tell me you'd be happy to let me spank you…" she moaned as he sucked gently at the pulse point on her throat.

"Offer still stands…" he muttered as his lips met hers.

She could feel his evident arousal pressing against her hip. "That's not the only thing that stands…" she teased as he nibbled on her lower lip. He couldn't suppress the feverish groan from deep in his throat when she palmed him as he feasted on her delicious mouth.

Wrapping one of her legs over his, she quickly flipped him onto his back, his dark blue eyes widening as she rendered him completely speechless. Straddling his hips, she pressed her palms to his stomach and ever-so-slowly slid them up his abs, across his chest, and over his shoulders until her body was leaning atop his, her face inches away from his own, the air between them heavy and heated as their eyes locked - dark and aroused.

"You want a dominatrix?... you got it," she breathed into his ear, causing him to swallow sharply. "But be warned… this mistress always spanks twice."

Whoever said books aren't inspiring was evidently very, very wrong.

.

* * *

**_"Fatherly Love"_**

Sitting side by side on the edge of her desk, Beckett and Castle studied the murder board. Things were starting to fall into place with regards to the case, but there still seemed to be something missing. That additional piece of information that might help them solve this frustrating puzzle.

They'd tossed around a few theories, chased a few possible leads, but nothing came to fruition.

With her right arm already crossing her torso, Beckett bent her left arm, bringing her hand up to meet her lips. She silently chewed on the tip of her thumb, deep in thought, eyes reading the white board with great intensity as Castle picked up the case file off her desk to look through the reports one more time.

The cacophony in the bullpen began to fade away as her mind focused entirely on the display in front of her, waiting for all of the leads - all of the clues - the intricacies of this mystery to reveal its secrets. Her mind quieted, the meditative hum of the elevator and the monotonous tick, tick, tick of the bullpen's wall clock the only sounds echoing in her ears as she considered all of the facts.

"Yo, Beckett!"

She woke from her trance-like state, turning her head to face the approaching Latino detective who was holding up a folder.

"You got something?"

"Yeah… I asked Tori go over the security footage one more time…" Esposito began, "and we noticed a guy leaning on a tree near the building's entrance. He was only there for about 10 seconds, and the footage is a bit fuzzy… but check it out…" He slapped a grainy video printout of the man in question next to the sketch of their mystery man.

Beckett's eyes narrowed as she glared at the man in the picture, noting the similarities. "That's our guy."

"Do we know who he is?" Castle inquired.

Esposito grinned as if he had a secret, removing a second photo from the folder. "That's the best part," he smirked, posting the photo beside the first one. "Boom!" It was an enlarged still of the man's shoulder and arm. There on the sleeve of his hoodie was a fuzzy but legible name. _P. Gregory_.

"Peter Gregory," Ryan stated, crossing from his desk area to join the other three. "Single father of two young girls. No priors. Had recently filed for bankruptcy."

"Maybe he got in over his head with the wrong people," Castle offered, watching Ryan add Gregory's DMV photo to the white board. The writer released a heavy sigh, saddened by the idea of a father not being able to provide for his daughters. Once in a while, he got so wrapped up in death and murder and killers, that he sometimes forgot that some murderers were just ordinary people who were pushed past their breaking point.

"Let's dig into his life a bit more," Beckett said decisively.

Afternoon turned into dusk as a late shaft of dim light from the setting sun cast the conference room in an earthy glow. The more they found out about Peter Gregory, the more Castle felt a bit sorry for him. He was just an average guy, a father trying to do whatever he could to provide for his daughters, taking one menial job after the next until it was no longer enough and he unfortunately fell in with a den of thieves and drug runners.

And the more they uncovered, the clearer the picture became.

It appeared as though Gregory wanted out of his unfortunate situation by whatever means necessary, eventually resorting to adding cyanide to his oppressor's food. To die for causing others pain… Castle could appreciate the poetry in that. Gregory then proceeded to bash the man's face with something heavy - perhaps a brick - put the victim in his car, and drown it in the East River. It wasn't exactly overkill, but even Castle agreed that it was a little bit excessive.

However, considering the questionable life Gregory had been trying to escape, Castle thought the man might have been justified in some small way.

But getting himself involved with the people he had, Gregory had been playing quite a deadly game. A game which would cost Gregory his freedom… and his daughters, their father.

And sacrificing your soul, leaving your family to pay the price - that was something that would never sit well with Richard Castle.

Never.

.

* * *

**Okay… did I say this concept was a challenge? Cuz… wow… that's an enormous understatement!**

**Some titles might be a bit more difficult to spot than others, but they're all in there.**

**I did what I could.**

**So there you go… Judge away.**


	3. Season 3

_**Recap: The challenge was to write a fic infusing all of the episode titles within the story – in order.**_

**.**

**Yep... still pretty much fluffy and semi-plotless. )**

* * *

**Season 3**

Two bodies. Ripped up and sliced apart. Mutilated beyond recognition. It was more than just a deadly affair. A family was destroyed, and two young children were left without parents as a result.

Esposito slapped his cuffs on the estranged wife - the woman showing no remorse for what she'd done - and passed her off to L.T. who led her to Holding.

"So wrong…" Castle mumbled, watching the woman walk down the hall, face cold and stoic.

"Yeah…" Ryan nodded, "I just don't understand how someone can do that to their family."

"What?" Beckett asked, starting to remove pictures from the murder board, "cheat on their spouse or commit murder?"

"Both," Ryan sighed. "And now he's dead, she's dead," he pointed to DMV photos of the dead husband and his mistress, "and the wife is going to be facing life in prison. It's just… it's sad."

Beckett nodded sheepishly, glancing over at her fiancé, a blank look on his face. She knew this one hit close to home.

* * *

"You okay?"

He raised his head to face her as she sat down on the couch next to him, her hand coming to rest gently on his thigh, the ethereal glow from the dining room fireplace flickering across her soft features.

They'd returned to the loft about an hour ago, but he hadn't said much at all since leaving the precinct.

"Yeah…" he sighed heavily in response. After a brief moment of silence, he whispered, "No…"

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, a deep ocean of blue staring back at her. "This one just felt… personal."

She continued to sit in silence, allowing the simple touch of her hand to keep him grounded. Soothe him. Comfort him.

After all these years of following her, seeing the horrible things people could do to each other when under the gun… how they reacted when being punked, misused and abused - sometimes it got incredibly disheartening. For a man who made his millions by dissecting death and exploring the anatomy of murder, it was still heart-wrenching to see his reaction to the cases involving kids or adultery.

The intense quiet cocooned around them, holding them together in a warming embrace.

The look on his face was reminiscent of the first time she saw him this dejected… years ago, while he sat beside the pool at the Starburst Motel, 3XK having just spared his life.

"It's hard… you know…" he muttered, breaking the silence. Her eyes continued to wash over his face. He looked up to meet her eyes. She thought she almost saw his eyes twinkle.

Almost.

"Famous people always live their lives under the microscope," he said, his voice soft but raspy. "We're used to the scrutiny. But…" His voice cracked a bit; she responded by gently smoothing her palm along his leg. His gaze returned to the floor as he swallowed. "But those kids aren't… they'll never have a chance to live a normal life."

"Hey…" Her voice was soft, affectionate. She cupped the side on his face, his cheek leaning into her warm palm. "They'll be okay… their aunt and uncle are going to take them in. Those kids… they'll be alright…" She paused a moment, his eyes piercing the depths of hers before she added, "They'll be safe."

A gentle smile tugged at the sides of his mouth as her thumb swiped across the edge of his cheek. And that was enough.

"Come on…" she whispered, getting up from the couch, holding out her hand for him. He gazed at her long fingers for a moment, eventually reaching up to link his fingers with hers. She pulled him gently to his feet, Castle following her in silence towards the bedroom. "Let's get some sleep… hell of a day."

Sleep. That was a great idea.

* * *

He stretched his arm across the bed, fingers tracing along the warm indentation where her body had been. Blinking his eyes as he adjusted to the soft light that was gleaming through the bedroom window, Castle curled his face into his pillow, unwilling to leave the cozy, comforting warmth of the king sized bed, but also desirous to wrap his arms around Beckett.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands, he groggily turned his head to take in the empty side of the bed, discovering a piece of paper sitting on her pillow. A hand written note.

_'In the garden.'_

A warm smile lit up the writer's face as he forced himself out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Crossing through his office, the sensual aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the grand living space. _'I love you too,_' he thought as he poured himself a mug before leaving the loft, making his way to the rooftop staircase.

The fresh air seeped into his lungs as he stepped into the rooftop garden. Light from the rising sun reflected off the windows of the surrounding buildings, casting a celestial glow across the rooftop garden. The tips of various trees and shrubs were bathed in the delicate morning light while other areas were drowned in disconnected shadows. There was something quite magical about the space at sunrise.

The writer took a sip of coffee - the hot liquid infusing caffeine in his veins - as he quietly observed his fiancée, sitting on one of the benches, watching the morning doves and purple finches flittering around her. She looked so relaxed... so at peace. He could see it written all over her face. The last thing on her mind was murder. Most fowl continued to hop around at her feet while others flew from tree to tree... completely carefree.

Such freedom was one that the two of them continued to strive to attain together, and after so many near-death experiences, close encounters of the murderous kind, as well as misunderstandings, arguments, and emotional insecurities, they were getting there at last.

Calling attention to himself so as not to startle her, Castle cleared his throat as he approached the bench.

"Hey," she beamed at him as he rounded the bench, taking a seat beside her. "You found me."

He smiled at her with such adoration that her heart flipped inside her chest._ 'I'd always find you,' _he thought to himself, wrapping his hands firmly around his thermal mug.

"How long have you been up?"

"About an hour," she replied, gazing down at the birds while taking a sip of her own coffee that she was cradling in her hands.

He watched her watching the animals for a few minutes, saying nothing, before breaking the silence with a soft whisper. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Gonna pay me upfront?" she asked with a smirk.

"Can I start a tab?" he teased.

"Can I charge interest?" the detective countered with that sharp wit that had first inspired him to create the character of Nikki Heat. He always loved that about her - how quick she was in the war of words.

"Only if I get to choose the method of repayment," he remarked playfully, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. She smiled lovingly at him, rolling her eyes slightly, before returning her attention to the spirited birds, their energy a complete juxtaposition to the serene calm that was embracing the partners.

"I was just thinking about the fragility of life," she muttered after a few minutes, eyes staring fixedly on one of the finches. "How you can be alive and well one moment and then without warning... poof, you're dead."

Castle's hand motioned over to her leg, coming to rest on her thigh - just as she had done to comfort him last night. They'd had so many close calls. Been knocked down too many times that they cared to think about. But somehow, they'd been lucky.

A stiff chill ran down his spine as he recalled her words from so long ago. _'My life… mine. You don't get to decide_.' That had been the final nail. A dagger through his heart.

And they both fell into their own black holes of despair, set up for disappointment by driving an unnecessary wedge between each other… only to realize that they're stronger together than they are apart.

She looked over at the writer, so much love swimming in the depths of his blue eyes. He smiled as his lips pressed against her soft, chestnut hair as he whispered, "So that's why we make every moment count."

Down her leg, around her knee... his warm palm soothed her with its slow and tender movements. It was always the combination of his poignant words and his smooth touch that could calm her entirely. It was true that everyone has only one life to lose… but they also have only one life to live.

And they decided to start living.

Leaning her head against his shoulder, the two fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the sun gleam across the Manhattan skyline. They stayed there - sitting on the garden bench, statuesque as they wrapped around each other - for a long while until the deep treble of Castle's voice pierced the serenity of the moment.

"We'd better get going," he whispered into her hair as his strong arms squeezed her shoulders in a loving embrace. "Law and murder await."

"You just don't want to have to face Gates if we walk in late," she grinned, peeling out of his arms and rising to her feet.

"Darn straight," he nodded, taking her hand as they made their way to the stairwell.

* * *

"You better today, Bro?"

Castle turned to face Esposito as the boys approached Beckett's desk.

"What'dya mean?"

"You looked a bit off yesterday after we closed the case," Ryan followed up.

"Yeah… well… kids were… ummm… so…" Castle reasoned, the boys nodding, not needing him to continue this train of thought. They could tease the writer relentlessly when they wanted, but never when the cases hit so close to home. Especially after what happened to Alexis last year. That slice of death and destruction was still too raw… for all of them.

Esposito slapped a firm pat on the writer's back before heading to the breakroom. Ryan stayed back a moment, sharing a subdued smile as he squeezed Castle's shoulder. Castle reciprocated the soft, understanding smile before Ryan cuffed his shoulder and traipsed over to his desk in silence.

The young detective now understood something about Castle that Espo did not.

The instinct of fatherhood.

He looked back at the Irishman sitting as his computer, and the thought of Ryan possibly perishing in that fire a weeks ago left an uncomfortable feeling in Castle's stomach. Jenny without a husband, Sarah Grace without a father. Just the idea of Ryan dead had pools of tears welling in the corners of the writer's eyes.

Leaving Alexis without a father and Martha without a son had always been one of his greatest fears.

And now… Beckett.

He'd written about it his entire life, but now he knew what real fear was. To risk it all. To give yourself entirely about someone only to be taken from them. To love and die. In L.A. was when it really hit him. Until then, he'd been denying it, ignoring it… but sitting on that couch in their hotel room, he truly realized that he'd given his heart to Beckett long before.

Kate.

The woman who was going to be his wife.

And he was pretty dead certain that neither one of them would ever be able to move on should the other perish.

That was his other great fear. Because they were each one half of the same whole.

An unexpected shadow cast over his face, snapping him from his trance. The writer looked up, his eyes locking with those of his gorgeous fiancée. She beamed at him as she silently handed him a cup of coffee - her smile wide, her eyes twinkling.

It was the same smile that melted his heart when she rescued him from the bank.

The same smile that could knock him out or put him back together.

The smile that spoke for her the way coffee spoke for him.

Smile and coffee. Two halves of a whole. And when those two such different things came together - the result was harmonious perfection.

Just like the two of them.

Always.

.

* * *

**I tried to make this one into a single story… although it didn't really seem to have any plot.**

**Oh well.**

**All the titles are buried in there, and that's all that matters – right? ;)**

**.**

**So there you go. Season 3 done.**

**Judge away.**


	4. Season 4

**So I owe everyone an apology.**

**(I'm Canadian… it's what we do...)**

**I had accidentally posted my fourth chapter of a different fic in here - my bad.**

**_...If you liked it, feel free to read more over in my "She's Armed, He's Dangerous" fic_**** ;)**

**.**

**So if you were looking for ep titles and was amazed by my incredible, ninja-like powers to hide them so seamlessly… ****_ha-ha, fooled you! _**** :D**

**But I think most people realized my stupidity… so I'm just gonna go… over there. :P**

**.**

**Anyhoo, this is the real Ch. 4 for this fic and I promise the ep titles are in this one.**

**Scout's honour.**

**Seriously.**

.

**_(Unlike Castle, I actually was a Scout) ;)_**

* * *

**Season 4**

She exhaled slowly, managing the horrors tormenting her mind. The worst case scenario that played out in slow motion as she watched Castle take a bullet. It didn't matter that he was wearing his body armor - it still scared the shit out of her.

She knew what it felt like to be in those crosshairs. To fall hard and rise again, like a phoenix from the ashes.

But seeing Castle fall… again… that brought on all sorts of nightmares. Nightmares she wasn't yet ready to admit to having - not to Castle, and not even to herself.

All of the doubts. All of the fears. All of the discomfort. All of it was counter-intuitive. Like Castle, Kate Beckett liked the stories to make sense. Good guys and bad guys. Heroes and villains. Murderers and victims. Motive, means, and opportunity. But her PTSD? She couldn't make it make sense… She didn't _want_ it to make sense.

She'd thought she'd beaten it long ago… but now she was starting to understand that it would never go away. Not entirely.

She curled up beside his office window, arms wrapped around her legs as her chin rested on her knees, the dim light from the nearby streetlamps cascading through the darkness of the loft. Watching the rush of headlights and tail-lights illuminate Broome Street was hypnotic in its rhythmic pattern - which she liked, because it was distracting her from what was going on in her head.

Case in point, her mind was a mess.

"Hey…" His groggy voice woke her from her reverie, pulling her attention from the cars outside to the man crossing through the doorway between the bookshelves, clad in his pyjama pants and a loose-fitting black t-shirt.

"Hey…" she replied with a whisper, watching him wipe one of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"It's 3:00am," he noted, his voice raspy with slumber.

"Couldn't sleep," she smiled weakly. "Didn't want to wake you."

He sat down on the right arm of the crimson club chair that she'd dragged closer to the window. She couldn't fool him. He knew why she was up. "Worried because of today?" he asked softly, gently carding his fingers through her hair.

She released an elongated sigh before admitting what he already knew. "You took a bullet, Castle." Her voice shook as the words exited her mouth. "Again."

Resting his left hand on her far shoulder, she brought her left hand up to meet his, tangling her slim fingers within his. This was when it hurt the most. To be a man who lives via the power of words, yet he could not possibly say anything that would take away the inner-torment she was fighting against. The bullet had hit him squarely in the chest this time, but she couldn't kick the facts of the ballistics. The trajectory of that shot… it was supposed to kill him.

He'd insisted he was fine, covering his discomfort with bravado - as was his way - joking again about his books being worth more and that he'd need yet another bullet proof vest as he'd have to frame this one too. But _fine_ is in the eye of the beholder. For years, she claimed to be fine while she was battling against so many personal demons.

Maybe he wasn't in pain, but there was no way he was _fine_… and neither was she.

She squeezed his hand even tighter as she stared out the window, eyes glazed over. Dazed.

"Kate…" he whispered, his gaze also fixed on the transparent glass as his fingers continued to toy gently with hers.

"Hmmm?..." she hummed, not tearing her eyes from the window.

"Feel like going back to bed?"

"Maybe in a bit," she mumbled, running the pad of her right thumb lazily across the back of his strong fingers.

He nodded, understanding her need to process in her own way. As he started to get up from the arm rest, she gently locked her fingers with those of his that were resting on her shoulder, holding him in place.

He froze where he was, waiting for her to let him in. Her eyes continued to fixate on the window as if she was in a trance. Finally, she spoke softly - almost inaudibly - after what seemed like an eternity. "Stay…"

Smiling tenderly, he sat back down on the wide arm of the chair, left hand still laying on her shoulder, the other coming to rest on the side of her right arm. He said nothing. He didn't need to. He would stay as long as he needed her to.

* * *

She was in a much better head space when she woke up the next morning. Somehow, his soothing touch always seemed to work miracles.

Blinking her eyes to adjust to the morning light, she turned her head slightly, only to be met with the vision of two cobalt blue orbs staring back at her adoringly.

"Watching me sleep is still creepy, Castle," she mumbled with a playful smirk.

"G'morning to you too, detective," he teased in return.

She couldn't help but smile lovingly as he beamed at her, leaning down to press his velvety lips to her forehead. "Feeling up to playing cops and robbers today?"

"Gates gave me the weekend off, Castle. You know that."

"I wasn't talking about work," he hinted on a heated breath, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. She rolled her eyes, waiting him out for the impending explanation.

"Mother has informed me that she wants to hold another workshop in the living room later this evening, so I was thinking that perhaps we might finally christen the Ambassador Suite at The Four Seasons," he suggested, nibbling on her earlobe.

"Sorry to be the cause of your imminent heartbreak, but that hotel is currently closed due to a water main break," she whispered on a baited breath, heart fluttering as shivers ran along her spine.

"Crap," he mumbled, burying his head in his puffy, feather pillow. Images of Hurricane Martha staging the stormy shipwreck scene from _The Tempest_ in the middle of his living room quickly overtook his mind, making him shudder. He would kill for a shot of bourbon right now… anything to dull the bitter notion of what he imagined the diva might do to the loft. To their home.

Ugghhh.

But he didn't need the alcohol, as he was gently soothed by the sensation of Beckett's sultry fingertips painting subtle lines along his throat and across his jaw. Her touch. So simple, so tender - it has been the balm that has assuaged so much of his anxiety over the past few years.

He turned his head slightly to face her, head still partially buried in his pillow, one eye opening, peering at her lovely face through tangled lashes. She beamed at him, resting her right palm on his tight abs. The memory of when they woke up together for the first time flashed behind his sleepy eyes - side by side, in a dark and dank basement, cuffed together. Only to have to go head to head with a tiger.

And they survived.

They survived so many life threatening ordeals, heartbreaks, heated arguments, misunderstandings… and now they were here. Everything they'd done - good and bad - led them to this point. Together. Soon to be husband and wife. Married.

Unified.

"Til death do us part," he muttered, words escaping his throat in a hushed whisper.

"Soon, babe..." she smiled, leaning in to press her soft lips to his temple, the crinkles beside his eyes scrunching adorably. "Soon."

* * *

Stretched out lazily on the sofa, eyes heavy, she found herself being lulled by the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard. It was comforting. Relaxing. Listening to him type… knowing his brain was whirring a mile a minute, creativity flowing from his fingertips.

"Writing Nikki?" she uttered, eyes closed.

"Not exactly," he answered matter-of-factly, pressing a few more keys. "Just a random idea that popped into my head. Thought I should write it down."

The sound of a sudden silence caught her attention, inducing her to crack one eye open. She couldn't help but smile as the broad, shadowy silhouette of her fiancé made its way through the office door, padding towards her.

"Was it any good?"

"Dunno…" he shrugged. "Might be able to use some of it."

"What was it about?" she smiled. She loved listening to the story teller emerge.

"Corrupt politician… underground gambling ring… sex, drugs and rock 'n roll…" he grinned, flopping down on the couch, laying her feet across his lap. "I'd call it _Dial M for Mayor."_

"Very Hitchcockian of you," she smirked.

"Says the woman who recreated _Rear Window_ for my birthday."

Her broad smile couldn't be suppressed as she reminisced about that week. It had almost been a year since that epic birthday. How far they'd come since then. Dealt with a few embarrassments, lots of bitches, some sleazy guys… they even came close to throwing it in at one point, but they didn't.

And that was what mattered.

She felt his soft fingers caressing her cheek, the tips trailing along her chin. She opened her eyes wide, golden specks twinkling amongst the alluring hazel, to see him. Just him. Only him. Thoughts of Joe and Vera and the Blue Butterfly danced through her mind. They had it right. Things were just things… and she's always loved her 'stuff'... but as long as they had each other, that was everything.

He'd opened Pandora's Box when he opened her mother's case file so long ago, but that had been the key. The necessary linchpin to her finding the inner peace she so vehemently desired. She'd wanted it, but was too afraid to let go. Because it was in her nature. Once set upon a crime, she became a hunter. Could never bring herself to back down.

And although those were characteristics that Castle first admired about her, with time, she came to realize it was a dangerous dance. With death involved, nothing was guaranteed. And if it was concerning her mother's death in any way, she became unpredictable. Volatile even.

But that wasn't the person she wanted to be anymore. After all, life can deal out different cards than the ones you'd anticipated. For her, it hadn't taken long. Forty-seven seconds. That was all that was needed to turn her life upside down… and she never wanted to make that mistake again.

Her mind started to race, digging through the memories of all of the poor choices she'd made, the secrets she regretted… and then Castle took another bullet to the chest. Everything good in her life - it would have died with him.

"Hey…" he whispered gently, bringing her back from the oblivion of her muddled thoughts, "stop thinking so loudly."

She looked down at his hand that was extended in front of her - it was holding a mug. A steaming mug. Coffee. She smiled to herself, accepting the warm beverage. She craddled the mug between her palms, both amazed and slightly unsettled by how deep the dark abyss of her mind could be. She didn't even notice he had gotten up.

He plopped back down on the leather couch, putting his own mug down on the coffee table to pick up the small plate of food he'd brought with him.

She grinned lovingly at the writer as he savoured his first taste of the slice of pie, his tongue poking out between his lips slightly. It looked delicious. _He _looked delicious.

"Wanna bite?" He held up a forkful of last night's dessert as if it was an offering to the gods.

The look on her face was salacious. He swallowed heavily as she leaned forward, hazel eyes locked on to cerulean blue. Wrapping her lips around the divine morsel of keylime pie, she moaned in delight as the citric, limey flavours danced on her palate.

Her dark eyes stared into the depths of his, reading over the volumes of his face. She knew what he was thinking. What was in his head. Hunters couldn't stalk their prey half as well as she could read him.

For a while, after she'd been shot, nothing was right. Her body was alive, but she'd been spiritually dead. She was like a zombie. Undead. Again. Like she was after her mother's murder.

But that was in the past. Gone. All they needed was the here and now. Them. Together. In this moment. This was their second shot.

And they would make the most of it. Always.

.

* * *

**Woohoo! Another 23 episode titles woven into a semi-plotless pile-o-fluff!**

**Most challenging title this time around?... Probably "****_Dial M for Mayor_****", but "****_Undead Again_****" came in a ****very**** close second.**

**.**

**So there you go… Judge away. :D**


	5. Season 5

**_Recap: The challenge was to write a fic infusing all of the episode titles within the story – in order._**

**_._**

**So this is it for now... I will eventually write a chapter for season 6, but I'll be doing that once the season is done in May.**

**.**

**Until then, I hope you enjoy the semi-plotless fluff that materialized. **

* * *

**Season 5**

It was days like this that she was happiest that she had Castle in her life. Not just as her lover and her fiancé - but as her partner, her collaborator, her best friend. It had been a very, _very_, long week. The case she'd been working involved the death of a woman… a mother… a mother of a teenage daughter... who'd been stabbed.

And it cut like a knife.

But, unlike before, she now had support. She had him. It had been emotionally draining - for both of them - but after the storm had passed, the skies cleared. And she was okay.

Because what was once a weakness was now a strength.

She didn't have the luxury of allowing herself to be complacent, for her mind to be distracted or cloudy. With a chance of murder happening everyday, Kate Beckett would never allow her mother's death weaken her resolve to seek justice for others. Because she was stronger than that.

But it still hurt from time to time.

And this was one of those times.

She stared blankly at her computer monitor, wondering what might become of the young girl who lost her mother the same way she had. Her mind began to spin, lost in an endless abyss of arduous thoughts.

Suddenly, she was led back to reality by the gentle touch of a warm palm against her forearm - like a beacon amidst the fog of her mind. She looked up, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, seeing only tenderness and affection reflecting back at her. She felt her lungs fill with air, settling the knotted feeling in her stomach.

"You okay?" the writer asked, voice quiet and tender.

Beckett answered with a sheepish, half-hearted smile. "Just worried about the daughter. What might become of her."

Castle's eyes twinkled softly as he took a minute to consider his choice of words. "Only time will tell…" She nodded slightly before he added, "But if she's anything like you, she'll be okay."

The detective's eyes shifted down to focus on her desk, a genuine smile forming on her lips. After a moment of intense silence, he leaned in towards her, thumb tracing back and forth against her arm. "Can I let you in on a secret?"

"Mmm?..." she hummed inquisitively.

"Don't tell anyone," he whispered, "but I've kinda got a crush on someone who works here."

"Is that so?" she grinned, looking up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah… someone who's funny, smart, savvy, sexy as hell, and pretty darn extraordinary."

She couldn't help but beam at the compliment. Bringing her right hand over to cover his, their two hands came to rest against her arm, fingers lacing together gently. "Me too…" she smiled.

"You have a thing for Espo as well?" he exclaimed with a chuckle. "I thought I was the only one!"

She bit her lip playfully at his retort, releasing a well-needed laugh. Amazing. The man was amazing. Montgomery was right. Castle really has been good for her. He helps her laugh, smile, and find the joy in the everyday. She grinned, squeezing his fingers. "Your secret's safe with me."

The writer reciprocated the smile, knowing his words succeeded. "C'mon," he stated on a soft breath, rising from his chair. "It's been a long week. Let's go home."

She nodded once, switching off her computer before pushing her chair back from her desk.

She took a step towards him, turning to slide her arm in the sleeve of her coat that he held open for her. Tying the belt around her waist, she turned slightly, gently smoothing her hand along his arm for a brief moment.

Home. The word had never sounded so sweet until she found it with him.

* * *

The loft was quiet, serene. She curled up on the couch, happily immersing herself in one of his books, a glass of red wine within reach. While she allowed herself to escape into a world of mayhem, mystery and murder, he wrote - sitting beside her, fingers furiously typing away on his laptop.

"Beckett?"

"Hmmm?" she murmured, not looking up from the pages of _Storm's Last Stand_.

"Do you think Nikki would ever arrest someone without probable cause?"

"No. Why?"

"Just... thinking…"

Tearing herself from the pages in front of her, she glanced at the author who was curled into the opposite corner of the couch. Nudging his leg with her toe, he looked up from his computer, eyes glazed slightly. She knew what was going through his mind.

"Your arrest?" she muttered.

He returned his pained gaze to the screen. "Yeah…" he replied sullenly.

Putting her book down on the coffee table, she shifted across the couch, legs curling under her as she kneeled directly beside him. She gently lifted the laptop from his grasp, turning it towards her.

"I- I didn't intend to write that..." he mumbled as she began to read the words on the screen. Nikki arresting Rook. For murder.

She looked up at him, surveying the torment in his eyes. He gazed back at her, their silent conversation speaking volumes. He nodded his consent as her finger pressed down on the backspace key - holding it down, the letters disappearing one by one as the cursor rushed backwards along the page.

This was their final act of defiance... the final frontier... their declaration of war. Removing his stain from their lives. Deleting Tyson. Not letting fear win.

Because they would not be his swan song… they would _not_ be his trophy.

They would be his undoing.

And they would do it together.

* * *

After hours of sitting on the couch, curled up comfortably together - her reading her novel, him reading the same novel over her shoulder - Beckett released a cheerful sigh.

"What?" he whispered sweetly into her ear.

"Nothing," she remarked with a grin, reaching to pick up her wine from the coffee table.

"Not buying it."

She hummed, relishing the flavour of the rich red liquid. "It's a secret."

"Santa might put you on his naughty list, Beckett," the writer retorted with a chuckle.

She smiled warmly, snuggling into his chest, his huge hands wrapping around her from behind, hugging her stomach. "Santa doesn't exist, Castle."

"Says you," he muttered, lips ghosting along the edge of her jaw.

The way she was teasing him, the smirk in the tone of her voice - he knew it wasn't anything too serious or significant. Others had tried, but nobody could even get him going as well as she could. He was a fiddle and she could play him perfectly. She knew how to mess with him, keep him intrigued, push him away and pull him close, and leave him hungry for more.

She was a master.

"I was just thinking that, in your next book, Nikki should be chasing a psycho who pretends to be nuts but gets others to kill for him by using his telepathic powers," she grinned.

"You were not," he smirked.

"She could go undercover in an insane asylum..."

He reached around, smile on his face, as he removed the wine from her grip. "Okay you're cut off," he chuckled. No way she'd be suggesting stuff like that unless she was under the influence.

"You could call it _A Heated Mind: Death Gone Crazy,"_ she laughed, tilting her head to look up at his face.

He beamed as her eyes searched his, a wide, adorable grin painted on her face. His heart skipped a beat. She wasn't drunk. She wasn't even tipsy. He knew her facial expressions all too well, and this was a look that he adored. She was at ease… completely content. She was just having fun. With him.

He stared into the depths of her rich hazel eyes, reading her like a book, each layer peeled back like he was perusing another volume of her life's story. He was amazed that how every time he'd thought he had her figured out, she would surprise him.

A mystery he would never solve.

Lost in his thoughts, he recoiled a bit when he felt a slight pinch on his hand, her touch beckoning him back to reality.

"Hey there, super star," she muttered with a gleaming smile, "looking a little dumbstruck."

He flicked his eyebrows as he shot her a heated grin. "Just thinking…"

"About?"

"How you had me going there for a minute."

"Yeah, well… you make for an easy target," she snickered in return, pulling his arms tightly around her waist. He felt his knees weaken - luckily, he wasn't standing up.

He smiled into her hair as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, fingers tangling with hers. Turning her head slightly, she tucked her head under his chin, cocooning herself into his warm embrace.

"Wanna know what I was really thinking about?" she muttered, eyes closed, finding comfort in the rhythm of his breathing and the even palpitations of his heart.

"_Mmmm_…" he acknowledged with a hum, wrapping himself around her even more.

She released a deep sigh, nuzzling her nose against the base of his throat. "How happy you make me…"

His breath caught in his chest for a moment. He knew he loved her and she loved him, but hearing words like that spill from her mouth always made his heart stop.

For so long, he had had to scratch and claw, chase and hunt, poke and prod. But she'd made him want to change, to be a better man… a better person. And while the prospect of falling in love with her scared him to death at first, he couldn't believe how easy it was once she dove in with him. Because he wasn't just a wild rover looking for another fling and he was no longer the man she'd first met all those years ago - the man who had been more intrigued with the lives of others than living his own fully. He was now the man who helped her believe in the possibility of magic... and she helped him appreciate the magic in the everyday.

And that was everything.

* * *

Turning his face into his pillow, buried beneath the warmth of the plush duvet, Castle opened his eyes fast, the furriest of sensations tickling the length of his thigh.

Blinking as he adjusted to the onslaught of sunlight assailing his retinas, his vision quickly filled with the sight of his gorgeous fiancée, a glowing smile beautifying her face as she stared back at him.

"Hey," she beamed softly, her foot smoothing up and down the side of his leg.

"Morning…" he murmured groggily, a sleepy smile adorning his face. "Either you have furry feet or you're just happy to see me..."

She swatted his chest playfully, smirking her response with a patented roll of the eyes. "I put on socks, Castle."

"Cold?"

"A little."

"I could warm you up," he uttered with a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows.

"Is that so?" she whispered erotically on a heated breath, her face inching closer to his.

She felt his fingers tentatively wrap around the edge of her sock, dragging it off her foot agonizingly slowly. Tingles electrified her entire body. "Oh, most definitely…" he breathed, running his free palm underneath the edge of her oversized t-shirt, tracing her tight abs with his fingertips.

She gasped at the sensation. It was incredible. Amazing. How, after all this time, they could still drive each other wild with the simplest of touches.

"Oh god…" she groaned as his fingers continued to tease the soft contours of her body, his teeth nibbling on the smooth underside of her jaw.

"Cas… _uhhhh_…" she began, mind blanking as his mouth began to devour the supple flesh of her swan-like neck. It took every ounce of resolve within her to get words out of her mouth - albeit incoherently - as his hands and lips and tongue gradually turned her brain to mush. "Dinner… tonight… _mmmmm_…" she moaned salaciously, "parents… _oohhhh_… need... shopping… _mmmm_… the squab…. and the... quail… and _uhhhh_…. wine…"

"Shut up," he muttered seductively before silencing her mouth with his, tongues engaging in a heated and passionate exploration.

Dinner was tonight, but this was the morning. And right here and now, in this moment, it was the human factor that was more important. Being together.

Connected.

Slowing their frenzied passion, Castle brushed his mouth gently across her satiny lips, her smooth cheeks, her fine eyelids. He paused briefly, the salty taste of tears skimming the tip of his tongue. Pulling his head away from hers, he was met by the sight of tears brimming in the corners of her eyes - water shed for him. For her. For them.

"You're crying," he observed, voice soft and gentle.

"Yeah," she beamed at him, unadulterated joy sweeping across her face, the watery film causing her eyes to glisten.

Bringing his palm to caress the side of her cheek, Castle traced the pad of his thumb tenderly along the underside of her eye.

He wiped away the tears just as he had wiped the pain and sorrow from her life.

With the healing power of touch… and love.

.

* * *

**Woohoo! All 24 titles are in there… and I managed to get "The Fast and the Furriest" and "The Squab and the Quail" in there without pulling my hair out! ****_(...my beautiful, beautiful _****_hair...)_**** Go me! :D**

**.**

**It was interesting that the theme of touch seemed to come out of this one… I hadn't intended that when I started, but I like it. **

**.**

**So there you go… Judge away. :)**


End file.
